VALORIA WILDEROSE
I’m taken away by the maids, and I’m grateful for it. I cannot stand another second in the sa room with him—with the wailing, the nauseating stench of blood, and the eyes that watch be vulnerable.
Yet, even after leaving, I can’t stop hearing her screams or seeing the deep crimson oozing out of her disfigured body like a gushing fountain.
I’ll never forget what she looks like—how her bloodshot eyes wept and begged for rcy that was never given.
I’m taken away like a prisoner, dragged to the lowest corners of the servants’ quarters, stripped out of my silk pajamas, dressed in clothes not even maids would wear, and forced to work in the filthiest of places.
While doing manual labor, I am scorned and mocked by each of the servants I encounter—tainted and twisted by the sickness that is Azrael, unaware that we aren’t that much different in front of him.
A litter of rats fighting over scraps just to entertain him.
I spend hours feeding the animals and washing their filth, doing laundry that shouldn’t be possible for a single person—all by hand.
The maids take their turns playing gas to feel good about themselves, taking out repressed anger against the won they serve on . A few concubines even drop by to throw their filth on .
I endure it all, because none of it is new, and even if it is, I’ve experienced far worse.
I brave the entire day just as I used to back ho—focusing on my breath, counting the seconds to dissociate from my pain until it’s all over.
The tornt doesn’t end until the sun falls and the moon hangs high above the sky.
I hang the last of the thick blankets I’ve washed for the third ti after they were deliberately soiled with mud as a dirty trick.
My peeled, chafing hands are red. Dragging myself back to the door, I find it locked.
I chuckle bitterly, barely amused by their final trick that’s hardly original. Its only fatal flaw is that where there are no open doors, there’s always an open window.
Luckily for , the floor of my room is not so high up, and I’ve gotten skilled at scaling walls since childhood.
I manage with the help of a tree close to the window of my room, finally grabbing its ledge and crawling in—thanking my past self for leaving the windows open as I do every other day.
I crawl into the space, falling forward with relief the second I’m inside. My muscles give way too fast, the adrenaline draining the mont my brain registers that I am safe.
"Lady Valoria...?!" I hear Yue’s voice and look up.
She rushes at from the chair she’s been sitting on—waiting for as she always does... just as she did that night.
My heartstrings are pulled instantly. She helps up on my feet, carefully setting on the bed.
Her frantic eyes look over my hands and feet, finding more cuts over the barely healed ones, trying to hide her own horror so as not to make feel bad.
It’s pointless though—I’m used to seeing scars. I’ve never cared about smooth, flawless skin.
Rather, I wanted it to be this way because it would have only ever given my sisters sothing to be jealous about and want to destroy.
"Wh-what ti i-is it?"
"It’s 2 a.m.," she answers with hidden annoyance on my behalf. "Are you okay? No, what am I even asking? Of course you’re not. The king might have gone too far this ti."
"Do-Don’t let any-one el-else hear y-you say that," I scold her lightly with a soft whisper, imagining what he would do to her.
Though I’m in no place to offer any advice either. After all, I asked for it this ti—by talking back and challenging him, thinking we had grown sowhat closer, all because he seed to care about my stutter.
Foolish Valoria...
"I wa-want to sleep," I murmur, looking away and turning to the bed, getting comfortable and ready to rest.
For the next few days, I hope to sleep, rest the exhaustion away, and hide my face for as long as possible.
"Uhm... there’s been a developnt, my lady." Yue’s worried voice echoes before I can give in to my exhaustion.
I sigh, knowing I asked for too much while living under the sa roof as that monster. True to his word, he intends to shatter —and that ans no rest... not even for a second.
When he isn’t torturing , his people do, and when they aren’t, I’m too busy worrying about what’s waiting for the next day.
"W-What is it t-this ti?"
She hesitates for a second, hating to break sudden news after I’ve just gotten back.
"The day for your official mating ceremony has been decided," she announces.
I freeze briefly, shooting upright to look at her.
"I d-don’t und-derstand." Her words almost sound like what I think she ans... but surely they aren’t. She takes a deep breath.
"Every concubine is technically married to the Alpha, with a ceremony to make it official following werewolf customs—"
"I-If at all t-the customs we-were f-followed, one man wo-uldn’t be ma-married to m-ultiple wom-n, let alone over a dozen!" I snap uncontrollably, feeling my heart sink even lower at the thought of being tied down to that monster legally, and by customs he doesn’t even understand.
"Yes, but that is how his majesty has made it. And so he does it with every woman he acquires, undergoing the sa sacred bond ceremony."
"He’s de-desecrating our be-liefs over and o-over again."
Bastard!
Not only does he keep multiple won—even those that are already mated and with children—he marries them using sacred customs ant to honor the gift of matehood and perfect pairing given to us by the goddess.
Just how far does his disrespect go?!
"And i-it’s to-tom-morrow?"
"Yes."
How far will I be desecrated by one man?
I bite my lips, reminding myself it’s a ans to an end—a good end where lives are saved, the goddess is pleased, and I get my revenge and another chance at life to live happily.
I take a deep breath in and let it out.
"O-kay." I respond coldly, looking away, resting on my bed once more. "I want to sleep." I dismiss her.
I hate how cold and distant I am... but I can say or do nothing more. I’ve been drained by Azrael, and slowly his sickness has begun to affect too.
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